Heirloom
by MMB
Summary: The holidays are hard on people with no families


Title: Heirloom  
Author: MMB  
Rating - PG  
Category - V  
Spoilers - "Island of the Haunted"  
Timeline - Christmas Eve immediately after the events of "Island of the Haunted"  
Keywords - MPSF  
Summary - the holidays are hard on folks with no families  
Disclaimer - They aren't mine, I'm just borrowing them for a bit. Please don't kill me...  
  
  
Miss Parker replaced the telephone handset in the base carefully and   
gently, although she would have rather thrown the thing as hard as she   
could against the fireplace stonework so she could enjoy the sight of   
it shattering into a million pieces. If it wasn't so ironic, it would   
be downright funny; just as Daddy had done so many times before, this   
time it was Lyle who called to cancel Christmas plans at the very   
moment he was due to pick her up. Even though the occasion had been   
practically a command performance rather than an invitation - Raines   
didn't have the slightest idea how to treat either of them like his   
own - it still had been the only Christmas invitation that had come   
her way this year.  
  
She threw her head back and fought hard against the desire to let down   
and cry out her disappointment, but merely closed her eyes and sighed   
deeply to get control of her emotions instead. It was her first   
Christmas since her father's plunge into the mid-Atlantic weeks earlier.   
Her father - she still thought of him as that, even though she knew the   
odds were decidedly against it. She desperately wanted and needed to   
connect to something, to someone, whom she could call hers in a world   
where every truth she'd ever believed in was slowly unraveling and being   
exposed as a lie or illusion.   
  
But she knew nothing would be served by her breaking down. She was a   
Parker after all; she would handle this like she always did: straight on   
with a stiff upper lip. After all, she'd been well-trained in dealing   
with just this kind of disappointment. Daddy had let her down in exactly   
this way for far too many years in a row, so being let down by her   
serial killer brother and/or a ghoulish paternal wannabe simply shouldn't   
and wouldn't be allowed to matter that much at all. She'd rather see   
either or both of them dead than sit with them at a dinner table   
anyway...   
  
She moved over to near the stairs and began pulling hairpins from her   
chignon, so that soon her hair was tumbling down around her shoulders.   
Then she leaned down and pulled off first one high-heeled shoe and then   
the other, sighing as her nylonned feet landed comfortably on the carpet.   
She climbed her stairs slowly, pulling at the zipper to her emerald silk   
gown, so that by the time she reached her bedroom, the dress was falling   
from her shoulders. It didn't take long to remove the rest of the fine   
trappings of eveningwear and replace them with a sleek set of jeans and   
a warm turtleneck sweater. She sat on the end of the bed and tied on   
some comfortable athletic shoes, quickly ran a brush through her hair to   
remove the last vestiges of the up-do and then trotted down the stairs.  
  
It was Christmas Eve, damn it, and she had been ready to go out to eat.   
There was no way in Hell that she was going to turn around and cook   
anything for herself. She threw her leather overcoat on, wrapped her   
new scarf around her neck and grabbed up her purse. There was one   
decent steakhouse in Blue Cove, and by God she was going to have dinner   
out, even if it was all by herself. Miss Parker climbed into her Boxer,   
revved the engine, threw it in gear and barreled down the driveway   
toward the road, then headed off towards town.  
  
There was very little trouble finding a parking place in front of the   
Rope and Spurs, it being Christmas Eve and all. Miss Parker climbed   
from her car and, pulling her leather coat tighter over the scarf   
against a chilled wind that promised yet another spate of snow flurries   
by morning, pushed through the double doors and into the foyer of the   
steakhouse. The maitre d' gestured about a virtually empty restaurant,   
and invited her to take her choice of seats. She chose one by the   
window so she could busy herself with looking out onto a deserted   
stretch of road rather than the empty seat across the table from her.   
She was staring down at the menu, not sure whether to order a meal   
sizeable enough to provide leftovers for a Christmas dinner at home   
alone tomorrow or not, when the solitary waiter on duty came up to her   
table and served her a glass of wine she hadn't ordered.  
  
When she looked up at the man in confusion, he merely stood aside a bit   
and gestured across the restaurant where, with his own wine glass   
raised in a mute salute, sat Sydney. The aging psychiatrist made no   
move to join her, but rather gestured to a seat at his table with a nod,   
leaving the decision of whether or not she wanted to continue to dine   
alone to her. Miss Parker knew that if she declined and stayed put, he   
wouldn't press the issue; but it WAS Christmas Eve, after all...   
  
With a nod to the waiter, she rose from her seat, took up purse, scarf,   
coat and wineglass, and slowly walked over to join him. "Fancy meeting   
you here, Syd," she said softly, draping the coat over one of the extra   
chairs onto which she had already dropped her purse and then seating   
herself across from him.  
  
"I could say the same thing to you," Sydney responded drolly. "I thought   
you had left early to..." He caught sight of her expression, and his   
words died for a moment, then, with a sympathetic sigh, "Who cancelled,   
Raines or Lyle?"  
  
"Does it matter? I really don't want to talk about it," she snapped   
tiredly. "I'd just as soon forget all about them, and Jarod, and the   
whole damned Centre, just for a little while." When the greying head   
across from her nodded in agreement, she tipped her head at him. "For   
that matter, Freud, didn't you announce a couple days about that you   
and Michelle were going to..."  
  
This time it was Sydney's pained expression that stilled the rest of   
her question unspoken. "Evidently Michelle's husband's family had made   
plans for a reunion meeting in Toronto, and they didn't fill her and   
Nicholas in on the details until very late yesterday. Her call left me   
barely enough time to cancel my reservation without penalty. And I'd   
just as soon not talk about that either, if you don't mind," he rumbled   
unhappily.  
  
Miss Parker nodded her concession, then raised her wineglass. "To two   
holiday orphans, Syd."  
  
Sydney's lips quirked with the beginnings of a smile as her toast   
jarred him from the rut of emptiness he'd been feeling since   
Michelle's call. "That's an interesting way of putting it, Parker,"   
he said, raising his glass to hers and clinking them together gently.   
"To holiday orphans." They each took a sip of wine, and then Sydney   
nodded at the menu the waiter had returned to Miss Parker as she had   
sat down. "You haven't ordered yet."   
  
"Have you?"  
  
"Just a few moments before I saw you come in. Did you decide what you   
want?"  
  
Parker nodded, her appetite reasserting itself now that she had a   
dinner companion. Sydney signaled the waiter to their table so that   
she could make her order.  
  
"So," he said when they were alone again, sitting back more   
comfortably in his chair, "what are your plans for tomorrow?"  
  
Parker twisted her mouth in a wry expression. "Nothing special, I   
guess. I am a holiday orphan, after all..." She took another sip of   
her wine. "I'll probably sit around, maybe build a fire, catch up on   
my reading. What about you?"  
  
"I had thought of driving up to the cabin at Angel Lake, actually," he   
said wistfully. "I guess I'm still in the habit of thinking of spending   
my Christmases with Jacob. Even now that he's gone..."  
  
"Bad idea! Its going to snow tonight and tomorrow, Syd," Parker warned.   
"I don't think you're going to want to be on mountain roads at all."  
  
"I haven't anything better to do," he replied with a shrug. "As a   
fellow holiday orphan, you know how it is... I've got the rest of the   
weekend off, so I figured why stick around the house moping by myself   
when I could go up to the cabin and be near Jacob."  
  
There was a long moment of silence, while each pondered the   
inadequacies of their respective Christmas plans. Then, "How about   
you come over, and I'll make you a Christmas dinner instead?" Miss   
Parker asked, surprising herself almost as much as she did Sydney in   
the asking.  
  
Sydney's wineglass had halted halfway to his lips, and he blinked his   
surprise. "Spend Christmas Day with you?" He kept his eyes trained   
on her face as he took his sip while awaiting her response.  
  
"Yeah," she drew out, nodding. The more she thought of it, the more   
she liked the idea. "You really don't want to be driving up into the   
mountains in a snowstorm, and I don't want to be worrying about whether   
you'll make it up and back in one piece." Sydney chuckled into his   
wineglass at the thought of her worrying about him, and she gave him a   
quick, mock glare. "Besides," she sat back as the waiter brought their   
salads, "what better way for two holiday orphans to spend the holidays   
than together. Us against the world, and all that."  
  
Sydney began smiling, but he waited until the waiter had left to lean   
forward and offer, "I have a better idea, Parker. I do accept your   
invitation to dinner; but I suggest you cook it at my place instead,   
where I already have the supplies for a pretty decent Christmas dinner   
on hand. I had intended to cook one large meal and then eat leftovers   
for the entire weekend. We both know all the stores are already closed   
for the next day or so; so unless you've already bought everything you   
need, shopping now at this late hours is out of the question. I, on   
the other hand, can provide the ingredients and the kitchen - if you'll   
help cook it and share it with me."  
  
"You're taking a chance I'll know how to fix what you have on hand,"   
Miss Parker's eyes twinkled at him mischievously.  
  
"If you're anything of your mother's daughter, I don't think that will   
be much of a problem," he responded with an answering twinkle of   
audacity in his eye.   
  
"I never knew you to be such a trusting soul," she quipped, then took   
a bite of salad.  
  
Sydney leaned back with a smug, wise look on his face. "I prefer to   
think of it as being a shrewd judge of character and ability, based on   
years of experience."  
  
That finally got her to chuckling heartily, with him joining her.   
Miss Parker shook her head at him fondly, and they both dug into their   
salads with gusto.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Sydney insisted on paying for both their dinners, and wouldn't hear   
any argument on the subject at all. "You can tip," he allowed finally,   
magnanimously. He waited while an only slightly mollified Miss Parker   
dug in her wallet for the appropriate arrangement of bills, then stood   
and helped her on with her coat.   
  
"Where's your car, Syd?" Miss Parker asked as they exited the double   
doors and the only car around she could see was hers.  
  
"I walked," Sydney shrugged. He looked up at the snow beginning to   
fall as it was reflected in the pool of the streetlamp. "I... had   
some excess energy to work off, and it was neither this cold nor   
snowing when I got here." He pulled his coat closed around his neck.   
"You were right, the weather is turning ugly."  
  
"Get in," Miss Parker said, unlocking the passenger door of her Boxer.   
"I'll give you a ride home."  
  
"Actually," he said as she settled into the driver's seat next to him   
and started the engine, "I'm glad you offered the ride. You left so   
early today, I didn't get a chance to give you your gift at work today.   
So you can come in and have at least one present to open on Christmas   
Eve."  
  
"Sydney..." Miss Parker looked over at her old friend fondly. "I'm   
already wearing the scarf you gave me." She flipped one trailing end   
of the warmth at her neck at him to demonstrate. They had for many   
years exchanged their gifts at the office party, and this year had   
been no exception. "You don't have to give me anything else..."  
  
His answering smile had a touch of sadness to it. "I know, Parker.   
But this is something very special I've been intending to give to you   
for a quite a while; and I think, considering everything that's   
happened lately, that now would the most appropriate time. And I   
need to be there when you open it, because I'm afraid it will need   
some explaining."   
  
"Okay." Her voice was soft, vulnerable, and a little hesitant and   
thoughtful. She'd never received a meaningful gift from anyone but   
her mother or Jarod before. The last gift with any meaning she'd   
received had come just a few years ago in the form of the white   
rabbit she'd named Bugs she'd received from Jarod. She knew that   
Bugs had been intended as much a pointed reminder of gentler times   
between them as he had been a simple gift, but she cherished the   
animal nonetheless.   
  
The thing that had hurt her the worst of all this Christmas was the   
complete lack of a gift exchange between herself and her father.   
Spending time shopping for just the right gift for him had for years   
been the one activity that got her into the 'spirit' of the season,   
and had been a missing piece in her life this year. It had never   
seemed to matter that in years past, Daddy's gifts had always been   
extremely belated dinners at a fancy restaurant, accompanied by the   
obligatory impersonal envelope with tickets to either a cruise or   
resort vacation. Nor had it mattered much that the reservations   
inevitably ended up cancelled and the money refunded to her in order   
to keep the hunt for Jarod current.   
  
What had mattered was the emotional connection she had made once a   
year with the one person left who truly mattered in her world - and   
what hurt worst was that this vital emotional connection had been   
severed.  
  
There WAS no gift exchange to speak of between herself and the rest   
of her so-called family and never had been; and if she had her wish,   
there probably never would be either. She and Lyle were barely on   
speaking terms, much less on each other's Christmas lists. Her baby   
brother - if indeed he even was her half-brother - was ensconced   
somewhere in the bowels of the Centre tower, and she hadn't seen him   
in months, much less bought him anything. Ethan, the only family   
member with whom she might eventually want to connect anytime in the   
future, was now quietly and safely recovering from a lifetime of the   
Centre's and Raines' abuse with his and Jarod's dad. Jarod had made   
those arrangements when Ethan returned after vanishing for several   
weeks after Alex's death - and naturally Major Charles was making   
very sure neither she nor anyone else at the Centre had any idea   
where they were. Not that she disagreed with this at all...  
  
For Sydney - of all people - to decide at this late date to give her   
something "very special"...   
  
She steered the car smoothly and knowledgeably around the corners   
that would take them to Sydney's home, the silence between the two   
in the car not an uncomfortable one. Miss Parker glanced over at   
her passenger and found him watching the scenery go by, his face a   
study in calm and contentedness. He felt her scrutiny and glanced   
back; and before he returned to watching the road go by, the edges   
of his lips turned upward in a reassuring smile that for some reason   
warmed her heart.   
  
The Boxer glided to a halt in his driveway, and Sydney escorted her   
up the now-slippery walkway to his front door with a cavalier hand   
to her elbow, unlocked the door, then gestured her in. The spacious   
house was warm and cozy, with the embers from a fire still glowing   
visibly on the hearth in the paneled living room before he flipped   
the light switch. He helped her out of her overcoat and hung it and   
the scarf in the little entryway closet, and with a "Make yourself   
at home while I bring it down," gestured her toward the living room   
while he turned the landing light on and headed upstairs.  
  
Miss Parker had never been in Sydney's home with time to kill, and   
she wrapped her arms around herself while roaming the edges of the   
room and investigating the decor. The living room was like Sydney   
himself: very masculine, and yet very refined. Three of the walls,   
including the one with the fireplace, were lined with bookcases,   
and many of the books held there looked old or valuable. Two very   
comfortable leather easy chairs sat near the front picture window   
that looked out over his snow-covered front lawn and prized topiary   
bushes, with a small table and reading lamp sitting between the   
chairs. In front of the hearth, a matching leather couch stretched   
with a glass-topped coffee table in front of it, on which sat a   
stone chessboard with chessmen at the ready.   
  
Miss Parker went over to the mantle and studied the pictures lined   
up there. There was the one with very youthful, very athletic-  
looking twins, Sydney and Jacob, obviously taken at a light moment   
during either their late university days or their first few years   
at the Centre. There was one of a slightly-older Sydney with his   
arms around a beautiful young woman - Miss Parker deduced this must   
be "Michelle" - next to which stood a much more recent picture of   
this woman, now obviously middle-aged, sitting with a admittedly   
handsome young man who bore a striking resemblance to Sydney.   
Nicholas, she mused, touching the glass of the frame very   
tentatively - so this was Sydney's son. He had his father's eyes...  
  
There was a picture of Jarod - obviously one of the yearly ID   
pictures taken of all Centre live-ins and employees - taken probably   
not too long before the Pretender had escaped and enlarged for   
framing. Surprisingly, there was a picture of her mother Catherine   
and herself as a young girl - a copy of her all-time favorite picture   
of her mother, the one she was never without. There was one more   
picture of her, and at this one Miss Parker halted in surprise and   
picked up the picture to study it more closely.  
  
It had been taken during her university graduation ceremony, which   
had taken place in Tokyo. It was a candid shot, taken at the very   
moment the president of the university had handed her the diploma on   
the stage - and the only way ANYONE could have caught that shot would   
have been through a telephoto lens from the audience. It recorded a   
moment that she had thought nobody she knew had ever witnessed.   
Daddy had been called back to the Centre, of course, that very   
morning and missed the entire spectacle. She returned the picture   
gently to its place, even though she couldn't bring herself to   
completely relinquish hold on the frame.   
  
Sydney had been there. He'd traveled halfway around the globe and   
been there to see her in what she'd always thought of as her finest   
- and prior to Thomas' murder, her loneliest - moment.  
  
And she'd never known.  
  
She heard his steps behind her and turned to him with shining eyes.   
"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked quietly, surprised she didn't   
sound as shaken as she felt.  
  
Sydney's gaze flicked from her face to the photograph she was still   
touching and back, and then he stepped into the room with a shy,   
chagrined look on his face. "It wasn't my place, Miss Parker. Your   
father..."  
  
"Wasn't there, Sydney," she finished for him, and she saw deep   
surprise flash across his face. "You didn't know he wasn't there,"   
she breathed, suddenly understanding. "You thought he WAS."  
  
"I always thought that all you needed to know was that you had   
someone there, watching you graduate," he said softly. "And it was   
only fitting that the person there for you be your father, not   
someone who was merely a Centre hired hand." He glanced back up at   
the picture on the mantle. "I was in your father's office when he   
finalized arrangements to leave for Tokyo for the commencement   
ceremony, so I honestly thought that he HAD attended. I just   
figured that he didn't need to know that the vacation he was   
approving for me just before he left was so that I could attend as   
well."  
  
Miss Parker found herself struggling with a lump in her throat from   
the memory. "He was called back to the office the morning of the   
ceremony - I suppose either Raines or the Triumverate called, and he   
naturally went running. I was SO disappointed," she remembered sadly,   
pointing at the picture. "I was almost crying when this picture was   
taken. Of all my friends, I was the only one who had no one..."  
  
"Had I known he'd left, I would have told you I was there," Sydney   
said gently, coming close at last and touching her elbow with a   
comforting hand. "Everyone deserves to know their best moments in   
life are shared with someone who cares about them. I knew I had no   
right, but I was so proud of you that day, Miss Valedictorian, that   
I..."  
  
His words may have ceased, but the look in his eye before he looked   
away told Miss Parker far more than she had ever imagined, more than   
she had ever wanted to know. She looked back at the picture, able   
at long last to touch the memory it evoked without such a gaping sense   
of loneliness, then reached out and smoothed a hand gently against his   
upper arm. "I'm glad I know now," she said softly. "Thank you,   
Sydney. It means a lot to me to know you were there."  
  
Her gesture seemed to unbalance the older man for a moment. He looked   
down and cleared his throat awkwardly. Then, unexpectedly, he looked   
back up and brought out a flat jewelry box covered in rich blue velour   
from behind his back and extended it to her perfunctorily. "This is   
for you," he stated with an unreadable tone of voice, placing the box   
in her hands.  
  
"Sydney, what..."  
  
"Uh-uhn. Open it first," he urged gently, backing away a step, "and   
then I'll tell you about it."  
  
She looked from his face back down to the velour box, running her hand   
across the soft fabric appreciatively, then carefully pulled against   
the spring-loaded top and opened the box - and gasped.  
  
A one-carat, square-cut diamond, set in a white metal that could only   
have been platinum, was suspended from a small curved chevron of old-  
fashioned filigreed platinum scrollwork, all of which hung from a fine   
platinum chain that ran through two secure rings at the wingtips of the   
chevron. Two much smaller round diamonds sparkled amid the filigree on   
either side of the square stone, which was set in such a way that it   
hung from one of its four corners. The necklace lay against the black   
velvet interior, the pendant itself rich and striking, the delicate   
chain curved gracefully around a raised mound that imitated a woman's   
neck.   
  
Miss Parker's grey eyes were huge when she looked up at him from the   
box, and her voice was a shocked whisper. "Sydney, this is exquisite!   
But I can't..."  
  
"I told you once that when Jacob and I got back to Lyons after the war,   
there was nothing left of the house my father had built," Sydney began   
softly, his face indicating that he was reminiscing and not really   
hearing her at all. "But, you see, my father had been warned of the   
possibility of their betrayal to the Nazis a few weeks prior to our...   
arrest. About a month before the Germans came, he sent off a box of   
our most valuable possessions to a distant cousin in England for safe-  
keeping, in case the rumors were true.  
  
"In the time it took us to get from Dachau to Lyons, my father's   
cousin had come over and was staying in Lyons, looking for us. When   
we all found each other, and found out that Jacob and I were... Well,   
anyway, this cousin brought us back to England to stay with him while   
we finished our basic schooling. Later we came to America to go to   
university. All that time, our cousin used the proceeds from the sale   
of first one and then another of the valuables our father had sent him   
to pay for our maintenance, both in England and while we were in school   
here. When he died, his widow sent on what was left of those valuables   
to the two of us jointly. There were only four pieces left.   
  
"By that time, however, we were both working at the Centre. The pay   
was good, and we had each settled down to what we expected would be   
fine, long lives. We divided the heirlooms evenly between us at the   
time, each to pass along to our own loved ones later on as we chose. I   
took this watch," Sydney pulled a gold watch from his vest pocket,   
"which was my father's, and the signet ring that belonged to my   
father's father. I decided to keep the watch and use it myself as a   
constant memento. The ring I gave to Michelle a long time ago, back   
when I was thinking of asking her to marry me - she still has it, but   
doesn't wear it. I've convinced her to pass it along to our first   
grandchild, when or if one ever comes of age. For what its worth, I've   
stipulated in my will that the watch go to Jarod after I'm gone.  
  
"As his share, Jacob took my grandfather's compass and this necklace,   
and then one day announced that he was going to put his share of the   
heirlooms away for his children - or mine, if he had none." His face   
clouded, then he continued, "You know that Jacob died without ever   
having children. Well, when I received all of his property that he'd   
put away in his safety deposit box after his death, I found what he'd   
put away.   
  
"Two years ago, I gave the compass to my son, Nicholas. I thought, at   
the time, he needed something of his grandfather's - a piece of his   
family's history to give us common bond from which to build a   
relationship. As my son, it is what Jacob would have wanted. That   
leaves..."  
  
"Sydney," Miss Parker whispered, a tear spilling over onto her cheek.   
"This should go to Michelle, she's..."  
  
The older man shook his head slowly. "No. Remember that I told you   
Jacob had always intended the heirlooms he'd kept to go to his   
children or mine, not to a wife or lover. I owe it to him to continue   
to abide by his wishes, especially when it comes to that which was his."   
He slowly lifted his clear brown eyes to meet hers, a tender warmth   
lighting them as if from behind. "You are as close as I will ever come   
to having a daughter or niece, Parker, and God knows I'm as proud of you   
as if you were my own. I want you to have it."  
  
He lifted the sparkling necklace from the case and moved behind Miss   
Parker, who stood too stunned to protest, reached around her and draped   
the piece about her neck, then carefully fastened the clasp at the nape   
of her neck. He moved back to face her and, with gentle fingers,   
adjusted the pendant on its chain so that it hung straight on her   
sweater. Those same gentle fingers then reached up to brush aside the   
trickling tears before they dripped from her chin.  
  
"This is the only thing of my mother's we managed to keep over the   
years. I can even remember the last time my mother wore it," he said   
with a soft look on his face. "It was a Christmas Eve affair, and she   
was all in green velvet. My brother and I used to think that she   
looked like a queen when she'd dress up and put it on." His expression   
cleared, and he gazed at her warmly, taking in the sight of the necklace   
laying softly against the powder-blue sweater. "She was slender, with   
dark hair, much like you. I think, perhaps, that you would have liked   
her, and she you. I know she would approve of your having her necklace.   
It suits you."  
  
"My God, Sydney, I don't know what to say," she managed finally, a hand   
at her chest fingering the pendant in disbelief.   
  
Sydney leaned forward and kissed Miss Parker very gently on the forehead.   
"Just say 'Merry Christmas', Miss Parker," he said, a hand resting   
lightly on each of her shoulders, "and then smile for me."  
  
With a full heart, Miss Parker stretched up and brushed her lips against   
his cheek before leaning her head against his shoulder for a moment,   
feeling his hands move around her to give her a gentle, tentative hug.   
When she pushed back away from him again, the smile she gave him was   
heartfelt and very vulnerable. "Merry Christmas, Syd. I just wish I   
had something to give you half as nice in return..."  
  
Sydney gave her a gentle smile and brushed the remaining tear tracks   
from her cheek with the backs of his fingers; then, while stepping back   
from her before either of them descended any further into maudlin   
sentimentalism, something caught his eye and gave him an idea. "Did you   
ever learn to play chess, Miss Parker?" he asked, half-turning to   
gesture at the set on the coffee table behind her.  
  
Miss Parker rubbed at her nose quickly to try to banish any more   
waterworks, stepping back herself just a bit and taking a deep breath to   
let the unexpected emotions between them subside to a more comfortable   
level. "Yes, but I haven't played in years," she admitted quietly, "not   
since college."  
  
"Perhaps can I talk you into a game?" Sydney's voice was hesitant, as   
if preparing himself for a quick refusal, and yet eloquent in   
expressing his wistful desire that she accept his invitation. "I   
haven't played for several years either, not since Jarod escaped..."   
  
When he saw her blink and actually pause to consider the invitation,   
he quickly continued very frankly, "For what its worth, Miss Parker,   
I've enjoyed your company tonight more than you'll ever know. And   
I'll be honest and admit that I'm selfish enough that I'd rather the   
evening not end quite yet."  
  
"I've enjoyed our time too, Syd," Miss Parker admitted softly, knowing   
she'd enjoyed her time more than she could even admit to herself. And   
then there was the necklace... "I'm in no hurry to be alone again, and   
a chess game would be a nice end to the day."   
  
"Then maybe I should also mention that I have a perfectly suitable   
guestroom that you can use tonight; and draw your attention to the fact   
that if you stayed here, you wouldn't have to turn around and drive back   
into town tomorrow to help cook our dinner. Besides," he paused with a   
gently teasing look in his eye, "someone I'm very fond of reminded me   
just this evening that the weather was going to turn nasty tonight and   
tomorrow - and its already beginning to snow. I don't want to have to   
worry about you getting home in one piece when you're driving tired late   
at night in a snowstorm..."  
  
Miss Parker heard the echoes of her own original argument in favor of   
the Christmas dinner turned back on her, and she began to smile   
inwardly. Her fingers toyed with the gems at her throat, and she gazed   
thoughtfully at the silver-haired man who was patiently awaiting her   
answer.   
  
She wondered why she had ever allowed herself to be convinced that to   
let him, or anyone else, get close would constitute disloyalty to her   
father. Despite his being held firmly and often quite rudely at arm's   
distance, Sydney had still proven a constant source of stability and   
security in her life since she was very young. He too had played his   
part in the lies and illusions of her life - but she generally   
discovered later, he had usually done so either to protect her or to   
keep a promise to another. And as she'd just been reminded only a   
little while earlier, he had also been more than willing to make up   
for those times when her "father" had failed her. He had been there   
for her in the past, had been there all along, and was here for her   
now.  
  
Here was a connection to someone she could privately call her own, one   
that nobody else had to know about. And all she had to do was reach   
out and accept it.  
  
What was she waiting for?   
  
"I think I'd like that," she agreed hesitantly. As his smile widened,   
she found herself feeling warmer, more cared for, than she had felt   
in a very long time - and the hesitancy with which she'd agreed soon   
evaporated in favor of an intuition that she'd made the right choice.   
  
Obviously immensely pleased by her decision, Sydney gestured for her   
to take her place on the couch while he pulled up one of the easy   
chairs to face her across the chessboard and then stirred the fire   
and added a new log to provide continued warmth into the evening. He   
paused on his way back to his chair and thought for a moment, then   
went over to a low cabinet. He withdrew two snifters and carefully   
decanted some of his prized cognac into each, then carried them back   
and handed Miss Parker one. "A toast, Miss Parker: to our being   
holiday orphans no longer," he intoned, raising his glass to her.  
  
"To newer and better holiday traditions for us both from now on," she   
agreed, gently tapping her glass against his and joining him in taking   
the first delicate sip of the mellow liquor. Then she set her snifter   
on the table next to the chessboard and, patting the pendant on her   
chest thoughtfully - still marveling at its presence there - pondered   
her first move in this new game.   
  
  
Feedback: mbumpus_99@hotmail.com 


End file.
